There's always one, isn't there? The girl or boy who thinks they're funny in lectures. The student who would rather write a joke about Jane Austen's sex life than write his contribution to a small-group exercise. But a number of student wags are reaping the financial benefits of their aptitude for the funny.

"With almost 1,000 comedy nights in the country, the vast majority located in university cities, stand-up is an obvious sideline for undergraduates," says Toby Jones, a Yorkshire club promoter.

Jones, who runs gigs in York, Leeds and Bradford, thinks the appeal of live stand-up is increasing. "The need for established comedy clubs to search for fresh talent is on the rise," he adds. "There's no early mornings, no boss breathing down your neck for the way you look or your attitude and, at the most, an hour's work per night."

Dave Howarth, 22, from Surrey, is just finishing a degree in politics and parliamentary studies at the University of Leeds. He has been gigging since a church comedy night when he was 19. "It was very tame and half the jokes were like something from the Two Ronnies," he says. "While I never did anything like that again, it showed me the buzz you can get from a live audience."

Howarth's first paid gig was in his university town, offered after he won the local heat of amateur competition So You Think You're Funny. "It was awful," he says. "It's normally a great gig and I'd been booked to compere, something I'd never done before. I should've been more honest about it but I just wanted to do the gig. For most of it everyone just sat there staring at me until I brought the proper acts on."

From those inauspicious beginnings, however, Howarth carved a name for himself, earning around £100-£200 a month. "I only had six hours a week of university time so it was fine," he says, "though I normally had to be back in Leeds so I couldn't travel too far."

Like many creative art forms, there's a certain amount of speculating to accumulate. "Paying for transport for gigs you don't get paid for is tough," says Howarth, "and you don't always know what the gig's like so you can end up driving three hours each way to play in front of four people. The money certainly makes things a little easier, but much of it goes to subsidise petrol for the gigs I don't get paid for."

Howarth wants to work in politics, ideally for the Liberal Democrats. "I used to think being a stand-up was the greatest idea in the world," he says, "but now I couldn't hack it. I don't put enough effort into writing material."

Croydon-born Jonathan Elston, 20, has his sights firmly set on stand-up as a career. He's doing a degree in history and politics at Coventry University and has been gigging for almost two years, earning up to £350 per month.

He started after watching a friend. "I asked the promoter if I could have a gig and he gave me an open spot [an unpaid 10-minute slot]," he says. Fast forward a year and Elston had a paid slot along-side established comics Ian Cognito, Caimh McDonnell and Paddy Lennox on stage in Hemel Hempstead.

"It's fairly hard to make money doing stand-up," says Elston. "But if you are good enough and work hard enough, that will be rewarded by promoters. You have to prove to them that you are worth the paid work as there are a lot of comics competing for the same spots."

Elston has been described as having "incredible talent and a natural warmth". But because of his career ambitions, he admits he has found it hard to concentrate on his studies. "My course is pretty relaxed in terms of contact hours so there is time to do both, but it can be hard to maintain a balance while ensuring you improve as a stand-up," he says.

Leeds philosophy student Max Dickins is just starting out. Obsessed with comedy from a young age, he started gigging in September and has since had spots in Manchester, York, Durham and London among others.

"I didn't rush into my first gig," he says, "I spent about six months gathering and honing material and studying the art before I took the plunge."

He is dismissive of the idea that juggling studies with stand-up need be a problem. "If I wasn't very busy with extracurricular stuff such as my stand-up, my sketch group and student radio, I would be bored rigid," he says. "Most students lack drive and they're surprised I juggle the comedy and my degree, but this says more about their inherent laziness than anything else."

In fact, he thinks student days are the perfect time to do it. "You have more time to travel so you can do a greater variety of gigs. The long holidays are also perfect for having lots of time to write material. You need solitude and a fresh mind and, as a working man or woman, you will rarely have this," he adds.

Viv Groskop hasn't felt like she needs to scale back on her ambitions simply because she has children. However, when she embarked on 100 consecutive nights of standup comedy two years ago, it was the biggest test of her marriage